The poem opens with a stark, almost clinical declaration of death: “Al fin de la batalla, / y muerto el combatiente, vino hacia él un hombre…” This initial realism is immediately subverted by the central device of (exaggeration). The dead man is not mourned but physically approached and spoken to: “Le dijo: ‘No mueras, te amo tanto!’” The command “No mueras” is an impossible one, yet the hyperbolic “te amo tanto” gives it a desperate, irrational force. The progression of the crowd—from one man, to two, to “mil,” to “cien mil,” to “un millón,” and finally “todos los hombres” (all men)—is a crescendo of numerical hyperbole. This escalation is not meant to be realistic; rather, it symbolizes the exponential power of collective will. The exaggeration underscores the poem’s central thesis: that no single man can reverse death, but an entire humanity, united by love, can perform a miracle.
In conclusion, the literary devices in “Masa” are not ornamental flourishes but the very engines of the poem’s meaning. Hyperbole elevates a simple act of mourning into a cosmic event. Anaphora gives the collective voice a ritualistic, unstoppable rhythm. Prosopopoeia grants the dead a responsive interiority, making resurrection a dialogue rather than a miracle. Paradox forces the reader to accept a new definition of life and death based on community. And sensory imagery makes this new reality palpable. Vallejo’s genius lies in using these devices to turn a poem about a dead soldier into a universal manifesto: that no one is truly dead as long as they are held by the mass of humanity. In “Masa,” the ultimate literary device is love itself—the one figure of speech that, Vallejo suggests, can literally bring the dead back to life. figuras literarias del poema masa de cesar vallejo
The most potent device in “Masa” is (personification), specifically the attribution of life, will, and emotion to the dead body. The corpse “saddened” (se apenó) and “felt something” (sintió algo) before eventually “waking up” (se despertó). This is not a scientific resurrection; it is a poetic one. Vallejo personifies the very processes of decay and stillness, giving them emotional vulnerability. The dead man’s final act—“tanto lo besó… lo levantó… lo anduvo” (he kissed him so much… he lifted him… he walked him)—is a remarkable reversal: the resurrected man becomes an active agent of his own resurrection, “walking himself” into the arms of the crowd. This personification blurs the line between subject and object, living and dead, showing that the dead “respond” to love as if they were still capable of feeling. The poem opens with a stark, almost clinical